Safe and Sound
by okaynextcrisis
Summary: Occupied Caprica/babyfic/AU. The battle will be won, but the leader will be lost.


_I had a weird dream, and I got a little carried away..._

* * *

**Safe and Sound**

* * *

The silence on the other side of the door chills him.

_No. It wasn't supposed to be Laura. It should have been him._

He shuts his eyes, close to collapse. The blood has soaked through the bandage on what remains of his left arm, is now dripping onto the floor.

And the silence goes on and on.

The door opens, and he offers up a last, desperate prayer to gods he doesn't believe in.

Ishay gasps. "Gods, you've been wounded…let me look at that—"

"Tell me," he interrupts.

Ishay pauses. "You have a healthy baby girl."

A sob rises in his chest. He fights it back.

"And Laura?" he asks, gritting his teeth, bracing himself for the blow.

"There were…complications," Ishay admits, her voice quiet. "Dr. Cottle can't stop the bleeding."

_The battle will be won, but the leader will be lost._

It should have been him.

* * *

When he'd first heard the prophecy, he'd laughed.

There were no gods. There was no salvation. There was only the Cylon attack on Caprica, and the occupation, and the few thousand survivors, and the tunnels and caverns where they'd hidden them away.

There was only him, a retired military commander, and her, a schoolteacher who'd gathered as many souls as she could and taken them underground, organized them, and declared herself President.

He'd wanted to fight.

She'd told him it was his duty to stay, to protect their people, to safeguard the last remnants of humanity.

He'd hated her that day.

He'd known she was right.

They'd formed an uneasy alliance, the two of them, dividing up duties into _military _and _civilian. _They'd learned to work together, learned to fight together.

When she'd brought up the scrolls, he'd feared he'd thrown his lot in with a lunatic.

He'd hated her that day.

_The battle will be lost, but two leaders will be born._

_Humanity's children will prosper, while their parents will cower._

_For a thousand days they will circle each other…until the final battle begins._

_An angel and a demon will rise, switch places. _

_Serpents, numbering ten and two, will bite the leader, poison the people._

_The final battle will be fought, while the leader brings forth life._

_The battle will be won, but the leader will be lost._

When the people had sided with her, taken up her cause, and her mysticism, and her Scriptures, anointed her a prophet, he'd hated her even more.

Then Boomer had turned on him, shot him down, been revealed as a Cylon.

Laura had saved his life that day.

She'd been expecting their people to turn out to be Cylons, had had a plan in place.

If it hadn't been for her, humanity would have been wiped out that day, their whole civilization vanished.

Instead, he lived, and their people survived.

He didn't question her anymore, after that.

* * *

"You need to let me take care of that."

But he doesn't. Not anymore. If he dies, if he bleeds to death right here, outside this door, will Laura live? Will his sacrifice buy her life, buy her time?

"If she doesn't make it—"

He has never hated anyone more than he hates Ishay in this moment.

_She'll make it_, he wants to say.

Except all of Laura's prophecies had come true.

_The battle will be won, but the leader will be lost._

He'd thought it would be him.

He'd prayed it would be him.

* * *

He'd never meant to love anyone ever again.

His marriage had failed. He'd lost one child to death, another to resentment. He didn't need to suffer through any of that again.

And then he'd met Laura.

Even in the dim candlelight, her eyes are always so green, so full of life.

Even when he wants to despair, wants to give in, she is there, holding him up, keeping him afloat.

He's not sure when she became all that is keeping him alive.

He's not sure how he ever lived without her

He's sure he couldn't live without her now.

When she'd told him she was pregnant, he'd wept.

How could they possibly bring a child into this world.

How could they not.

* * *

"Dad, I need to tell you something."

"Not now," he manages. Not when he's not sure if Laura will live.

Not when he's sure that she won't.

Lee hesitates. "It's about Kara."

* * *

They'd argued about her, their voices raised, their words cruel.

It had been their first fight since Laura's pregnancy.

_Lee had been sure he'd seen her body._

_Kara had been chasing a Cylon, one who'd wandered too close to their camp. Lee had tried to warn her, tried to call her back—_

_She'd gone straight over the cliff._

And then, forty days later, she'd walked back into their camp, with the plans for the Cylons' defensive perimeter.

"I know how we can defeat the Cylons once and for all," she said.

Laura had wanted her locked up, wanted her executed as a likely Cylon infiltrator.

He'd wanted to give her a chance.

"You're so afraid to be left alone," Laura had said, exhaustion and fear and impatience coloring her words.

"And you're afraid you won't be," he'd tossed back. "You're afraid you're not the Dying Leader, and that you'll have to live with your choices like everyone else."

It was the first time either of them had ever mentioned the prophecy in relation to each other, to their baby.

_The final battle will be fought, while the leader brings forth life._

_The battle will be won, but the leader will be lost._

He knew Laura thought it foretold her death in childbirth.

He didn't want her to know that he did, too.

* * *

Lee quiets, lowers himself to the ground beside him.

They wait together.

Ishay goes back in, emerges almost an hour later.

Bill stands. "How is she?" he demands.

Ishay lowers her eyes. "Dr. Cottle's doing the best he can," she says.

It's like a knife, twisting in his chest.

"Can I at least see the baby?" he manages.

Ishay hesitates.

"Please," he says.

_Please, let me see what Laura gave her life for. Please, let me see the child that's all I have left of her._

Ishay must see it in his eyes. "I'll see what I can do," she promises.

* * *

_In the end, the decision had been an easy one._

_They couldn't stay hidden forever. They couldn't survive in these caves forever._

_So they made the choice to strike now, while they had a chance, while Kara's information was good._

_If Kara's information was good._

_If she wasn't leading them into a Cylon ambush._

_The night before the attack, he and Laura sat up together, the firelight flickering on their faces, their joined hands resting on her belly._

_Maybe this wasn't the final battle._

_Maybe the prophecy didn't mean anything._

_Maybe they would all make it through this._

_And then Laura's contractions had started._

* * *

When Ishay places the baby in his arms, he can't hold back the tears anymore.

She has Laura's green eyes, peering out at him from her tiny face.

He's never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.

Lee gasps aloud. "I knew you were having a baby, but…"

Bill knows what he means.

Holding their child helps, but it hurts, too.

He can't handle the idea that Laura might never get to see their perfect daughter.

He can't handle the idea that she might never get to hold their baby.

"Where's Kara?" he asks, to distract himself. "She'll want to meet her little sister."

Lee swallows. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

* * *

"_If I don't make it…" Laura begins._

_He stops her with a kiss. "Of course you'll make it," he assures her. "We both will."_

_He wishes he believed it himself._

_Laura smiles, a little sadly. "I'll see you soon, then?"_

"_I'll see you soon," he promises._

_That was the last time he'd seen her._

* * *

That's when Bill knows that Kara is dead.

He closes his eyes. "What happened?"

It seems particularly hard, particularly unfair, that he should have to say goodbye to his daughter now, as he holds his new child in his arms.

"It was after you were wounded," Lee whispers. "She led the attack, she held off the Cylons…"

Bill remembers being wounded.

He remembers being grateful.

_At least Laura will live_, he'd thought, just before he'd blacked out.

When he'd woken up, his wound bandaged, he'd been afraid.

He wasn't supposed to survive.

* * *

"She was amazing, Dad," Lee continues, his voice hushed. "What she did…"

When he'd woken up, the battle had been over.

The Cylons' defensive perimeter had been breached, their resurrection hub destroyed.

Bill had been rushed back to base.

All around him, his people had been weeping, overjoyed, relived.

He had been numb.

* * *

"How did she die?" Bill whispers.

Lee hesitates. "That's the thing," he whispers back. "She didn't die. She destroyed the hub, and she turned to me…and she just…disappeared."

Tears fall from Bill's eyes, darkening his baby daughter's blanket.

He is heartbroken.

He can't say he's surprised.

The door opens.

Doc Cottle emerges, blood on his clothes, exhaustion on his face.

Bill sucks in his breath. He's not ready, he's not—

"Are you going to introduce this lady to her mother?"

Bill doesn't breathe.

"She'll live," Cottle says, in answer to his unspoken question. "It was touch and go, but she'll live."

Cottle keeps talking—blood loss, transfusions, stitches—but Bill doesn't hear a word.

_She'll live._

He gets to his feet, still holding their daughter, and slowly, cautiously, pokes his head through the door.

He's afraid of what he'll see in the bed: something that used to be Laura, but isn't anymore, something left over, something silent.

But it's Laura's smile that shines from the darkness.

"Can I see her?" she asks, her voice rough.

It's her, it's really her: her bright red hair, vivid against the white sheets; her green eyes, glowing with love.

He manages to nod. "Of course," he says, his voice equally hoarse, but for different reasons.

He moves to the bed, eases himself down.

He realizes that he never believed that this moment was possible.

Gently, he places the baby in Laura's arms. He watches Laura's arms tighten around their daughter, watches her take in their child's face for the first time.

He leans into her, buries his face in her hair. "I love you," he whispers. He'd never been able to say it, not before today. Not with the prophecy hanging over their heads.

Laura looks up at him. "Who?" she asks, her voice quiet.

"Kara," he answers. No point in lying about it. Not now. Not to Laura.

He watches the tears trace down Laura's cheeks.

"I was thinking we could call her Thrace," Laura says at last.

He nods, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "That sounds perfect."

Laura tips her face up, and he presses his lips against hers, losing himself in her warmth, her vitality. He is alive. Laura is alive.

Their child is alive.

"Are the Cylons really gone?" Laura ventures, at last.

_The final battle will be fought, while the leader brings forth life._

"Yes," he answers. "I think they are."

Much of Caprica is a wasteland, he knows. It will take time, and patience, and more time, to make this planet livable again.

Looking at Laura, now, at the fire that still burns in her green eyes, at their daughter, curled in her arms, he suddenly doesn't doubt that they will succeed.

Wherever Kara is, he doesn't doubt that she knows it, too.

The baby squirms, and Laura laughs. "So much life," she murmurs.

Bill kisses the top of her head.

So much life, indeed.


End file.
